


Deep Inside Your Mind

by Crossroads_Blues



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Castiel (Supernatural), Case Fic, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Grieving Sam Winchester, Head Injury, Hospitalization, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, One-Sided Attraction, Slow Burn, Temporary Amnesia, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-03 21:17:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17291597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crossroads_Blues/pseuds/Crossroads_Blues
Summary: While on a usual hunt, Dean Winchester is hit by something. While Dean recovers, he can't remember neither Castiel, who's been harboring feelings for Dean for over 5 years, nor Sam Winchester, his brother, who is heartbroken by such turn of events. Can Cas and Sam reverse the damage, while battling their inner demons?Mind the tags.





	1. I Fall, You Fall, We All Fall

**Author's Note:**

> Author speaking! This is a little something I wanted to write for a long time. Please don't be harsh, my first SPN fic and English isn't my native language.

“Seasons don’t fear the reaper…”

Blue Oyster Cult was playing softly in the hospital room, courtesy of Sam putting Dean’s playlist on the MP3 player.

“Nor do the wind, the sun or the rain…”

Sam was standing near the window of the hospital room, watching water drops trickle down the windows. It was supposed to be an easy hunt, dammit! Easy hunt! Just a witch in Dallas, nothing too hard. Sam glanced at lifeless Dean’s body, with all the tubes sticking out of him and steady beep of the machines around him. And yet, that easy hunt put Dean in the coma. Something went terribly wrong. And now Dean is in the coma. Sam closed his eyes, tightening his jaw, not letting any tears escape his eyes. Dean will wake up, right? He always does. Right?

_“Alright Sammy, you take the first floor, I’ll look for this bitch upstairs,” announced Dean, right before they entered the mansion of the witch. Carla Reymouth earned quite a bit of fortune from her practices. Now it was time to take her out, before anymore people died and before she could do anymore harm. Sam was pretty sure they managed to wound her in the last confrontation, so the kill should be easy. Sam nodded and starting working on picking the lock. They wanted the element of surprise, so knocking down the door wouldn’t work. Five seconds later, they were in. Sam took out his gun and gestured at the staircase to Dean, who nodded. Dean quietly ascended the stairs, while Sam started checking the rooms on the first floor. And there she was. In one of the bedrooms, he saw her sleeping. He recognized her face from the previous confrontation and as a confirmation, the arm, which Dean managed to wound her in 5 hours earlier, was bandaged. He killed her in her sleep. And then Sam heard Dean scream._

“Sam.” Castiel’s gruff voice tore Sam out of the loop of thinking and rethinking about that hunt. He turned around and faced the angel in the doorway, who he saw for the first time since they left for the hunt. “You called.” Castiel then looked around and as soon as he saw Dean in a hospital bed, something changed in angel’s face. It was fear for Dean, yes, but also there was something feral, something that reflected the angel’s instant urge to destroy in the most savage way possible whatever harmed the hunter.

“Cas! Oh god, finally you’re here!” Sam rushed to the angel, but angel was quicker to move and reached Dean’s bed quicker than Sam could make it halfway to him.

“Dean!” called out angel, gazing at Dean’s face. “What the hell happened, Sam?” he said with furrowed brows.

“I- I’m not sure. We were taking out a witch, and I killed her, but then I heard Dean scream and I rushed upstairs and-” Sam swallowed, trying not to let his voice break traitorously “-he was just there, unconscious. He didn’t wake up since. Doctors say he has severe brain damage, but you can fix that, right, Cas?”

The angel didn’t answer, but instead put a hand on hunter’s forehead, brushing unruly hair aside. He closed his eyes and commanded his grace to flow. The angel felt his grace surging inside him, tingling his sensations, sparkling and and glowing, illuminating every cell of his vessel. Though, after everything he’s been through in this vessel, seeing that Jimmy Novak was long inactive, Castiel more and more started thinking of his vessel as of his body. The grace flowed, the angel being determined to fix the hunter and get him up and running, because he couldn’t stand seeing him like this and he couldn’t stand hearing the beeping of machines that kept his human alive. And he hit a wall. He focused even more, pushing his grace inside Dean’s head, not understanding what stopped him from healing Dean. Nothing.

“I can’t.” The angel exhaled loudly and opened his eyed. “I can’t fix him. There is some sort of a barrier, it doesn’t allow my grace through.” The feeling of inability to heal Dean hurt like hell, hurt in the ways Cas couldn’t even imagine before. The feeling of uselessness, the feeling of seeing his human in such state, the feeling of rage at whatever inflicted this damage, of rage at Sam for not keeping his human safe. Castiel knew he wasn’t supposed to be mad at Sam, he could see that Sam was also not in the best state, but yet he couldn’t put out his anger.

Sam stomped towards the angel. “Cas, what do you mean you can’t? You’re an angel!”

“I mean I can’t!” Castiel repeat in a raised voice. “The thing that hit him warded the damage somehow. No angel can heal this.”

Sam stopped in disbelief. “Cas, can something even do something like this? Warding the damage?”

Castiel shook his head. “Not that I’ve heard of.”

And then the silence in the room became almost deafening, with both the human and the angel feeling the weight of the world drop on their shoulders.

“So what do we do?” Sam’s words were left hanging in the air with no answer.

* * *

 

Next two weeks went by in the same monotone routine for Sam. Wake up, make calls, get down to the hospital, go back to motel, research till he started seeing double, get back to the hospital again, getting a sandwich and a coffee on the way, which he liked to think of as of enough food to support him for the day, sit with Dean, talking to him, get back to motel, exchange theories with Cas, go back to sleep for 2 to 3 hours and repeat it all over again. The research wasn’t just going slowly, it wasn’t going anywhere at all. Nada. Zilch. Zero. No mentions of anything like that whatsoever. Castiel was doing a fantastic job zapping all over the world and bringing Sam more books on the subject, but no luck was done. Sam didn’t dare to drive to Kansas to research in the library, it was a 9 hour drive with stops, and he couldn’t afford to leave Dean alone that long, so most of the related section of the Men Of Letters’ library was transferred to Sam’s motel room by Cas. Sam read and reread, looking for the slightest clue on how to help Dean. Cas didn’t have much luck either. It seemed that no one had ever heard of such a thing and with every day Sam felt more and more hopeless.

There was always hope for medicine. Normal medicine. The doctors told Sam that there existed a small chance of recovery, and Sam clutched on to that possibility as hard as he could. But he couldn’t live on that hope forever. And on the first day of third week he broke.

He crashed the motel room, breaking glass and wood, shattering beds and chairs and table, sending objects flying through the air, ripping the pillows apart and watching the feathers fly out of them. And then Sam got drunk. Drinking problems away was Dean’s method, but Sam couldn’t take it. He drunk til he couldn’t tell where was up or where was down, he drunk numbing his emotions with every sip, sobbing messily, because Dean, his brother, was in a coma and might not wake up and he couldn’t take it. He couldn’t take Dean going. Not like this. When Dean was torn apart by hellhounds, it was different. Sam had a target, Lilith and he could focus all his rage and anger on her, trying to take her out, but this time… He didn’t know what or who to aim his gun at and that was killing him.

It was in this state that Cas found him. A sobbing mess surrounded by broken furniture and empty bottles.

“Cas?” Sam glanced up to him. “I don’t want Dean to go. Not like this, Cas.”

“Shh, shh.” Cas raised the hunter up and set him on the half-destroyed bed. “Dean’s not gonna go, Sam. We’ll save him.” __I’ll save him,__ added Cas in his mind, as he put Sam to sleep with a touch of his fingers. Sam needed rest, Cas experienced it on himself how fragile humans are and Castiel knew that all these two weeks that Dean was in coma, Sam probably didn’t sleep more than 3 hours a day. So a good night sleep should do Sam good.

It was then that Sam’s phone rang. Castiel hesitated for a while, considering waking up Sam, but the hunter was clearly in no state to talk. After a second or two, Castiel picked up the phone, noting that the caller ID was ‘Hospital’.

“Yes, this is John Bohnam.”

“He woke up? Oh thank god. I’m on my way.”

“...What complications?”


	2. Holding On To You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean wakes up and Sam and Castiel are faced with dealing with pain of him not remembering them. First answers are discovered, and Sam finally gets himself a target to aim at.

"Complications. What did she mean by complications? How do complications even happen? How does that even happen, Cas?” muttered Sam, sitting on the bench outside of Dean’s hospital room. Castiel shook his head, signaling that he didn’t know. The nurse who called him wouldn’t tell him the nature of complications, only asked him to get down to the hospital as soon as possible. The nurses didn’t yet allow them in, so Sam and Cas had nothing to do but kill time. After Castiel received the news, he was forced to wake up Sam and relieve the effects of his alcohol abuse, who took the news of Dean’s complications in the most severe way - he trashed the pile of books, breaking a mirror. Finally a doctor exited Dean’s room. She smelled like chlorine and on her face there was a stern look that made Sam’s heart contract and skip a beat. It was bad, he could tell. Castiel kept his usual neutral facial expression, but his jaw was tight, and there was a menacing light in his eyes, light that meant that whatever did this to Dean would be dead and would be dead soon.

Sam and Castiel both jumped up from the bench, rushing to the doctor. “Doctor, talk to us, how is he?” on one breath blurted out Sam, still visibly shaking.

The doctor offered a smile, but not the one that signaled that everything was okay, but the one that showed pity. “Mr. Bohnam, you have to understand that your brother suffered extensive traumatic brain injury, and while we were able to wake him up… he suffered an extensive memory loss.”

Sam felt the world collapse around him, twirling almost like the opening of Lucifer Cage, and the air became a sticky heavy substance that for some reason must have been unbreathable, because Sam couldn’t feel his lungs contract. The world came crashing down, and the time took its turn again, as Sam finally processed what the doctor said to him.  
”How- how extensive?” he whispered in a dry voice, with a traitorous crack.

“It’s called retrograde amnesia and it is fairly common after-”

“How extensive?” repeated Sam in a raised, harsher voice.

The doctor hesitated. “There’s still more tests to be done, but I…” She stopped, not wanting to continue. Then she inhaled and finally said, “I think he doesn’t remember you.”

Sam felt his legs swaying, so he sat back down on the bench. “That is not possible. We’ve spent our entire lives together.”

“Sir, after such extensive damage to hippocampus, it’s a miracle that he woke up at all. Plus, the memory has a property of being able to recover spontaneously, so the memories may come back,” tried to comfort him doctor.

“Can I see him, please?” almost pleaded Sam.

“Yes. His semantic memory, memory which is responsible for storing facts and his implicit memory, which stores knowledge of skills are undamaged, but his autobiographical memory is very damaged. Don’t try to make him remember any traumatic events, it may worsen his condition.”

Sam nodded, and slowly approached Dean’s room, from which two nurses exited. He hesitantly knocked on the door and entered the room. They removed the breathing mask from Dean’s face and replaced it with a nasal cannula. Dean was half-lying, supported by two pillows and was looking at Sam. Sam expected Dean to say “Hiya, Sammy!” or to say “The nurses in this hospital aren’t even hot, why am I here?” or to say “That was a close one!” Instead Dean said, “Hi. Have we met?”  
Sam felt like he was about to throw up. “Yeah… long story. What’s your name?”

Dean blinked and continued to stare at Sam. “They tell me it’s Mick Bohnam. I don’t remember, being honest.”

Sam felt a lump in his throat. “It’s not. It’s a fake name. You remember what a fake name is?”

Dean looked thoughtful for a second. “I remember using one. Don’t remember why. Anyway, what’s my real name?”

“Dean.” Sam forced out a smile. “You’re Dean Winchester.”

“Winchester… Like the rifle?”

“You remember the rifle’s name?” said Sam, surprised.

Dean nodded. “I can’t remember who I am or where I came from, but I remember all sorts of useless information, like members of Led Zeppelin or lyrics to Highway to Hell. Anyway, who are you?”

“Truth?” asked Sam, not sure what to do, whether to tell Dean the truth, or play it off.

Dean thought for a second. “Yeah, truth. Kinda sucks not being able to remember anything, so please talk to me.”

“I’m Sam. Sam Winchester. Your brother,” blurted out Sam.

Dean didn’t move for a second. “Awesome,” he finally said, not really putting any emotion in the word. “I’m sorry man, I really don’t remember shit, but we’re on good terms, right?”

Sam approached the bed and nodded with a ‘not bad’ face. “Yeah, pretty much. We, uh, live together in Kansas.”

“Kansas? Cool. We have any other family?”

Sam shook his head. “Not blood family anyway. There’s this dude Castiel and he’s a really close friend.”

“Castiel?” Dean furrowed his brows. “Is that French?”

Sam laughed, this time for real. “No. I think it’s Enochian, but I’m not sure.”

“Enochian?”

“It’s a dead language.”

Awkward silence filled the room. Sam stepped from one foot to another, not sure what to say. Dean gazed at the ceiling,

“So, uh, I guess, I’m gonna go, Dean,” said Sam and stepped back, but bumped into someone warm. He turned around to see Castiel standing in the doorway.

“Cas!” Sam turned back to Dean. “This is Castiel, the one I told you about.”

“Dean.” Castiel’s hoarse voice filled the room. “How are you feeling?” Castiel approached the bed.

“I’m… fine, I guess. Sort of. Sam tells me you are a close friend of ours,” said Dean, examining the angel from head to toes.

“Yes,” replied Castiel, and Sam could swear that that ‘yes’ wasn’t said without a hint of bitterness.

Castiel gazed at his human and with a touch of his fingers put him to sleep.

“Cas, what are you doing?” asked Sam, stomping towards Cas.

“I don’t think he remembers that I am an angel, and dropping that on him right now will be unfair to him. I need to look into his head to see the state of the warding, whether some of it had faded and whether I am able to restore his memories.”

“Just don’t mingle in his head, okay?” Sam tucked Dean in and glanced back at the door to make sure no nurses were coming in.

Castiel gave Sam an offended look that said ‘Really, Sam, you don’t trust me now?’ but didn’t say anything out loud, just set his hand on Dean’s forehead and closed his eyes.

This time, the angel felt his grace penetrate the barrier that stopped him in the first place. He commanded his grace to flow to Dean’s memory, checking what was causing amnesia. He found that most of the memory was intact, like words, facts, general knowledge, skills, but one section wasn’t letting his grace through. Cas ordered his grace to inspect the section and hit the same wall that stopped him in the first place. But this time he managed to get his grace close enough to the warding to inspect it. Strange, thought the angel. He felt his grace touch ancient magic, magic that he thought he would never see again. Finally, and with a bit of sadness, he removed his hand from Dean’s forehead and turned to face Sam.

“He didn’t lose his memory, it was taken from him. I’m guessing that was the point of the attack and brain damage and subsequent coma are side-effects. The warding that prevented me from waking him up has faded, but there is a strong ward on his autobiographic memory,” he hurriedly explained to Sam, trying to burn the abstract symbols that caused the warding into his memory, “I think its in Etchemin, a dead language. It was spoken by people on the coast of Maine at least until 17th century. Went extinct some time after that.”

“What’s so special about this Etchemin?” asked Sam, processing the info dump.

Castiel started pacing around the room. “Because only two beings know spells in Etchemin! The language allows spells of intense power to be cast, power way too dangerous to exist on this planet, so I, on Heaven’s orders killed both of them!”

“What were they? Witches?” asked Sam.

Castiel shook his head. “Of kind, but much more powerful. Wabanaki tribes used to call them Skudakumooch, which is loosely translated to ghost witch. Now legends go that they are evil shamans, who turn undead after they die and rise up and eat people. They got it wrong.”

Castiel stopped and leaned on the wall and continued to talk, “There were only two Skudakumooches, two shaman brothers in 15th century, who employed some heavy black magic, using angelic grace and blood of one hundred of angels’ vessels to reincarnate themselves. They became immortal and all the legends were spawned by reincarnations of these two. Legends go you can kill them by fire, but it’s wrong, all you can do by fire is to force the Skudakumooch to reincarnate somewhere else. And they don’t just kill people, they can cast all sorts of spells, spells so powerful that Heaven deemed them unsafe to have on Earth, since their power reached level of power of angels. So they sent me to kill them. I stabbed them in a heart with an angel blade, they were dead. They were the only ones who could cast spells in Etchemin, so I have no idea what possibly could’ve done that to Dean.”

“We should swing by Maine, ask for local legends. Maybe in some of them those Skudakumooches are mentioned," said Sam, rubbing his temples and squinting from exhaustion.

Castiel looked up at Sam. “But I killed them!”

Sam shook his head and headed out of the room. “Maybe you didn’t kill them hard enough.”


	3. Death Valley Nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean spends a restless night, while a shocking discovery awaits Sam and Castiel in the forest in Maine.

It was sometime close to midnight in Dallas Municipal Hospital and Dean was lying in hospital bed and was confused so much that he wasn't sure what he was confused about. He had absolutely no idea who he was and having no anchors in his memory, no people, no places, no names felt terrifyingly empty.

“My name is Dean Winchester…” he muttered to himself in the dark. Dean… He liked his name. Winchester, like the rifle. A badass surname, he thought to himself. I hope I lead a badass life to match my surname, thought Dean.

“I have a brother named Sam.” Sam was nice. He gave off a warm vibe, even though he didn't look okay much when Dean met him. Dean noted heavy scent of beer around Sam, dark circles under his eyes and his unkempt slightly dirty hair. The guy wasn't living the best life lately, thought Dean and wondered whether it was because of him. Dean focused and tried to remember anything about Sam. Sam said he was his brother and that they lived together in Kansas, so they must be close. There must be something he could remember about his brother. However, memories never did come back. Just a void.

Dean then thought about Castiel. “Castiel… it's in Enochian and Castiel is my close friend,” quietly said Dean to himself. Dean thought about Castiel's voice. It was something in that hoarse, gruff voice that was giving him chills. There was something about Cas, something that Dean couldn’t quite pinpoint, and that something was making Dean feel weird, almost like he was a part of something bigger.

Dean then tried again to remember anything from his life. His birthday, his address, his phone number, but nothing came to mind. And then, just as Dean was giving up on recalling information from his past, he remembered one thing. He remembered pain. Pain encompassing his entire body, pain like a thousand needles stabbing him in every inch of his skin, pain like being torn apart from inside out. And he remembered seeing a flash in this pain, a flash of summer sky blue, a flash so bright that it was blinding. And there was a billion of voices all wailing: some crying in horror and some in relief.And after that pain ceased and so did everything else and the next thing he remembered was choking.

“Mr Bohnam! Mr Bohnam!” Dean was snapped out of his memory by a high-pitched voice of the nurse. He blinked a couple of times to adjust to the lamp the nurse had turned on and focused on the nurse’s face.

“What?..” he muttered.

The nurse gave him a concerned look. “You were screaming. Did you have a nightmare?”

Dean gazed around himself and dropped himself back on the pillow. “Must be. I thought it was a memory from my life, but I can’t imagine where I could’ve experienced such a thing.”

The nurse sat on his bed. Her face got inside the radius of light from the lamp and Dean finally got a good look at her. She was very pretty, blonde hair arranged in a neat braid, gun metal grey eyes and puckered pink lips. “Well, what did you remember?” she asked him in a melodic voice.

Dean furrowed his brows. “I remembered pain... just endless pain. And then I remembered a flash… and after that pain stopped, but I couldn’t breathe for some reason.”

The nurse smiled. “Must be just a nightmare. Rest well, Mr Bohnam.”

Dean glanced at the nurse name tag. “Please… Jamie, call me De- Mick,” corrected he himself, remembering that Sam told him to use a fake name for some reason.

“Okay, Mick.” Jamie the nurse turned off the lights and went towards the door. “I’ll check on you in the morning. Good night.” She closed the door behind her, letting the room fall in darkness once again.

Dean followed the advice of the nurse and closed his eyes, fully intending to sleep, but he kept playing through his nightmare/memory in his head. There was something about the flash that didn’t let him fall asleep. And finally he got it. Just before he fell into uneasy slumber, he realized that he saw somebody’s light blue eyes in that flash.

 

* * *

 

The motel room Sam was staying was quite busy at the time Dean was trying to sleep at the hospital. Books and notes were lying on every flat surface with both Sam and Castiel engulfed in research. No sound was heard except rustling pages, tapping on the keyboard and a song playing on Sam’s phone. “Hell of a memory is a heaven of pain...” Melodic voice of Albert Bouchard was flowing from the speakers, bringing at least some harmony to the room.

“Got it!” Sam leaned back from his laptop and victoriously pointed at the screen. He proceeded to read from the screen, “My biggest surprise was when I found a grave with old bones in the forest. There were two skeletons. I wanted to take them to the museum, but then it was getting dark and I became scared and ran away. I wanted to show them to my dad, but I never could find the place again. ”

“What was that?” Castiel raised his head from the book he was studying.

“That, Cas, was a response to a writing prompt for homework by a 7-year-old boy from two years ago posted on the website of Blue Hill Elementary School. Blue Hill is a town in Maine. Cas, please tell me that you didn’t just dump the bodies where you killed them in the middle of the forest?”

Castiel furrowed his brows and gave Sam a ‘guilty-as-charged’ look, but kept silent. Sam sighed and rolled his eyes, then dropped his head on the keyboard. The laptop squeaked as Sam said in muffled voice, “You did, didn’t you?”

Castiel shrugged. “I killed them! They were dead!” he said hoarsely.

Sam raised his head. “Well, now they are alive and kicking and knocking out memories of my brother. Great job.”

“They were dead, Sam! I am a celestial being, I know how to kill other… beings!” said Cas in a raised voice.

“Anyway, it’s worth checking out. Give me 15 minutes to pack a bag and zap us to Blue Hill. We’ll need to find that grave and see whether the skeletons are still there.” Sam glanced at the clock. 2.55 am. With a quick movement he reached for another can of no-milk no-sugar coffee, opened it and gulped it down in one go.

“Sam,” said the angel in a cautious voice, watching Sam throw the empty coffee can into the rubbish bin, where around 10 similar ones were already lying, “I don’t believe that’s healthy. You should get some sleep. Plus it’s night, we could benefit from sunlight in our search-”

Sam interrupted him, “It’s June, the sun will be up by 4 am. Cas, I want my brother back. I’ll sleep once he remembers me. Wheels up in 15.” With these words Sam stumbled into the bathroom and shut the door.

In 20 minutes two figures appeared on the very edge of Blue Hill. In twenty meters from them the forest, magnificent gigantic trees merging together in one ginormous pile of dark green leaves. Sam shivered and zipped up his beige jacket.

“What are you waiting for?” He glanced at Cas, “Let’s go. The kid’s essay says his parents don’t allow him to go far into the forest, so it’s probably on a very edge, so searching shouldn’t take long.”

“Won’t be necessary.” Castiel squinted at the trees. “Now that I am here, I remember where we battled. I’ll lead the way.” The angel stomped towards the tree line.

Sam shrugged and followed him, keeping a meter distance. Castiel seemed unusually tense and on the edge, and while Sam was guessing it was because of Dean’s situation, the angel still concerned him.

Ten minutes in, Cas broke the silence. “I think we’re here.”

“Are you sure?” said Sam, walking faster to catch up with the angel. Castiel didn’t reply but just nodded in the direction in front of him. And then Sam saw it as well. The trees were knocked over by some force and they were lying on the ground, pointing outside of the circle. Sam took out his gun and motioned to Cas to follow him to the epicentre of the force. As they slowly and carefully moved towards the centre, Sam took note of their surroundings. In the radius of 50 meters from a centre, all trees were knocked over and they formed a circle, their roots, which were torn out of the ground pointed towards the centre.

“Seems like bad mojo,” whispered Sam, to no reply from Cas.

And in the centre there it was. An empty hole in the ground.  
”Seems like our shaman pals are up and kicking,” commented Sam, examining the grave site. “Maybe they reincarnated themselves.”

“That’s no reincarnation,” said Cas, gazing up at the fallen trees and the gray sky. He knelt and took a handful of dirt from the improvised grave and stared at it intensely, rubbing together his fingers. Finally he let go of the dirt, wiped his hand on the back of his trench coat and looked directly at Sam, the menacing light back in his eyes. “They were raised. By an angel.”


	4. Way Down We Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone interesting gets involved in the ghost-witch situation. Dean and Cas finally have a moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your author is not dead. However, now that my break has ended, updating this story on a daily basis has gotten a bit harder for me, so the updates may be every 2 or 3 days. Also, need to establish some timelines.  
> 1) Takes place before Mary gets brought back  
> 2) Angels still have wings  
> 3) Dean doesn't have the Mark of Cain  
> 4) Crowley and TFW have a complicated relationship but none of them is actively trying to kill another.

Jamie exited the hospital room and shut the door behind her. Or rather, the demon that was possessing the nurse made her exit the room and shut the door behind her. Word travels fast and talk about the comatose Winchester brother spread like fire in the middle of June. But now the demon didn’t need the meatsuit of the nurse. Everything he needed to know was already revealed: Dean Winchester was indeed amnesiac and he didn’t remember a damn thing about his past.

The demon in nurse meatsuit made his way to the storage room. The nurse locked the door and turned around on her heels approaching the corner of the room where in the dark, a man, seemingly unconscious, was sitting, leaning on the wall. The demon smoked out of the nurse and in the form of red smoke traveled to the man, possessing him. The man opened his eyes, stood up, dusted his pants and sighed with relief, looking at his hands. Being back in his meatsuit made Crowley very happy. After all, it was a rather handsome meatsuit. Crowley didn’t like to leave his meatsuit, but he had to take the nurse for 15 minutes to check on Dean. Anyway, he was on the new objective now.  “Huh,” smirked Crowley and in the second, there was no one in the storage room of Dallas Municipal Hospital.

* * *

 

“Raised? By an angel? Why would an angel want to raise this scum?” Sam turned around and rubbed his temples. 

Castiel squinted and again glanced at the top of the trees, slightly glistening from the start of sunrise. “I don't know. I could be able to trace the angel, though.”

“Great! Let's start with that! C'mon, do your mojo.” !” said Sam, with way too much tension in his voice.

Castiel pressed his lips and walked away from the grave. “I can’t just do it right here right now,” he said finally, making pauses between words. “I need to lay hands on something that the angel has touched.”

Sam aggressively ran his hand through his hair. “The ghost witch probably. If the angel yanked it out of Purgatory, or wherever this thing was, like you yanked Dean out of Hell, there should be a mark. ”

Castiel nodded. “Yes, there must be a mark.”

“Okay, zap us back to Dallas, we need a plan,” said Sam with a frown on his face, “Why can’t life just be easy?”

“You’re a Winchester and I’m an angel, I’m guessing that’s the thing,” murmured Cas, as he transported both of them back to the motel.

“Ugh, your teleport mojo always messes me over.” Sam stumbled over to the refrigerator, bumping into the kitchen’s doorway and grabbed another can of coffee. “I feel like shit now.”

“Maybe it’s because of your poor sleeping schedule,” commented Castiel, as he grabbed a book titled “Native American Legends” and collapsed in the chair, flipping through it.

“Definitely not.” Sam threw the can in the garbage bin, this time missing the bin and letting the can skittle in the corner. 

“Right,” mouthed Castiel. “What’s the plan?” he said aloud, glancing up at the younger Winchester.

Sam shrugged. “We need to figure out how to track this thing. Get you to it for a long enough time and then have a nice talk with our feathery friend.” He dropped into a chair, letting his hair fall over his face. “I combed through all lore on ghost witches at least twice and I got no idea how to do that,” he added in muffled voice.

“Cheer up, Moose.” A way too familiar voice was heard from the doorway. Both Castiel and Sam jumped from their seats and bared their weapons: Castiel pointed an angel blade while Sam reached out for Ruby’s knife.

“I come in peace.” Crowley raised his eyebrows and displayed his empty hands. “Offended that you’d even think anything else of me.”

“Why’re you here, Crowley?” spat out Sam, still pointing the knife at the demon.

“To cuddle and watch Mean Girls,” smirked Crowley, “A little birdie brought on its tail that Squirrel forgot my pretty face. Now that’s a problem I’m interested in.”

Crowley strolled to the armchair and casually sat in it. “Ah yes, I know all about your little amnesia problem. About Skudakumooches, too. Wanted to help,” he continued in his gruff voice.

“Why?” Castiel slightly relaxed his stance, weapon still tight in his hand.

Crowley gave him a tight smile. “Because we’re besties. And because your ghost witches  are going after my crossroads demons.”

“Okay, what?” Sam put the knife away and set on the bed.

“Heard me right. Etchemin spells. Killing my best salesmen. Guessing that’s the work of your best buds.” Crowley leaned back in the armchair and crossed his hands. 

“Okay and how are you gonna be useful, Crowley?” Sam rested his elbows on his knees and glared at the King of Hell.

“I got a friend who got a friend who got a friend who used to be a shaman before they went to Hell and I got a summoning ritual on my hands.”  Crowley did jazz hands. “Tada.”

Sam raised his eyebrow. “Okay, Crowley, why do you think we want to summon this thing?”

Crowley stared back at him, feigning surprise. “Why, to kill it of course. This thing is murdering my demons, it turned your brother Jason Bourne, I assumed you want it dead.”

Castiel and Sam exchanged glances. “What do you want in return?” finally spoke Sam.

“I want it dead. Seriously, did you listen to the word I said?” Crowley’s eyebrows shot up. “I said that it kills my guys and my little establishment known as Hell-” he accentuated that word - “is losing clientele! So I am more than willing to cooperate.”

Castiel looked at Sam, furrowing his brows and pushing his lips tightly together. Sam didn’t say anything, just nodded. Castiel hesitated for a second, then turned back to Crowley. “Deal. Give us the ritual.”

Crowley gave him an enigmatic tight-lipped smile. “Attaboy. Kill it real hard for me, will you?” He handed Castiel a folded piece of paper. Before taking it, Castiel gave Crowley a glare and practically yanked the paper out of his hand. 

“We’re not killing it for you, Crowley,” said the angel in a haunting deep voice.

Crowley grinned. “Wouldn’t think so. Still you get the job done and that’s all I care about. I’d hate to lose any more of my salesmen.  I have a reputation to maintain here.” With these words, Crowley teleported, leaving Castiel and Sam staring at an empty armchair. 

“Okay, now Crowley is involved and he knows about Dean’s situation. This just got more complicated,” said Sam, stowing away the knife and sighing. 

Castiel tilted his hand and squinted. “If Crowley knew, it means that the word about Dean got out. This can’t be good.”

Sam nodded. “I’ll talk to the doctor about getting him here tomorrow. We should head to the bunker, do the summon, trace the angel, force him to force the ghost witches to give Dean’s memory back and then kill them all.” Sam exhaled and leaned back, lying on the bed completely. “Man, I swear,  sometimes it’s like the Universe is against us.”

Castiel looked at Sam. “You are going to get some sleep, while I-” he skimmed through the paper Crowley gave them “-am going to collect the ingredients for the ritual that we don’t have in the bunker.”

Sam got himself up from the bed, blinking rapidly and squinting. “No, Cas, wait, I can help with the-” he stuttered, looking for the word- “the, the…. the search of the ingredients.”

“No.” Castiel determinedly got up and walked up to the door. “I’ll see you later.”

“Wait, I’m not done, I’m not done!” Sam started to get up from the bed, but the exhaustion and many sleepless nights started setting in. “Okay, I’m done,” he admitted, collapsing again on the bed, “I’m done.”

Castiel cast one last glance at the younger Winchester, turned off the lights and headed out of the door. He shut the door behind him and felt light morning breeze on his face, as the sun continued rising. The angel pressed his lips together and tilted his head up, letting weak sunlight fall on his face. For the first time in weeks, they had a lead. They had a real shot at saving Dean. Castiel glanced down as he thought about the angel that had risen the Skudakumooches and ordered them to do that to Dean. He imagined jamming an angel blade in his throat and that thought felt really therapeutic. With a flap of the wings Castiel wasn’t anymore on the porch of the motel room.

The sunlight lit up Dean’s hospital room, as the light wind from the open window played with the curtains. The angel stood in the middle of the room, not sure why did he come there. Dean was sleeping and Cas rejoiced at seeing the hunter so calm and at peace. He slowly approached the bed, being careful not to make any sound. Dean not remembering him hurt like hell, hurt in the ways he couldn’t imagine. The pain of his human not remembering him, while the angel’s most cherished memories were with Dean stung and Cas couldn’t get rid of it. The angel spent a couple of minutes looking at Dean’s face and, as he wanted to leave, the hunter’s green eyes slowly opened.

“What, what time is it?” sleepily murmured the hunter, blinking slowly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up, I was just checking up on you…” rambled Castiel, moving away from the bed, embarrassed.

“Wait!” called out hunter.

“What is it?” The angel hesitated and lingered for a couple of moments by the bed.

“Your eyes… they’re blue,” muttered Dean, weakly raising his hand and pointing towards Cas’ face.

Castiel tilted his head and furrowed his brows. “Yes, I’m aware of that.”

Dean,, still half asleep and a bit dizzy from the meds, hesitated for a second, but then continued. “I had a memory… lots of pain and everything red and black… and then I saw a flash of white-” Dean stopped and stared directly in Cas’ eyes- “and in that flash, I think I saw your eyes. But that doesn’t make any sense. So, Castiel, lay it all on me, and tell me who the hell I am and what did I see?”

Castiel gave him a tight-lipped smile and contemplated his answer for a second. "No more secrets," he thought.  


"I'm an angel of the Lord."


	5. Come and Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is being impulsive, while Sam and Castiel have even more problems to deal with.

“Dude, you told him everything?” Sam nearly threw the phone at the wall.

“Yes,” said Castiel with a crack in his voice, “He had a memory of me saving him from Hell, and he asked me about it, and didn’t want to lie to him…”

Sam exhaled loudly. “How is he holding up?”

Castiel glanced through at small window in the door at Dean, who was sitting on the side of the bed, elbows resting on his knees and head down. “He- I think he’s going to be fine. I talked to the doctors. They say he can go home today.”

Sam furrowed his brows. “So quick?”

“I healed him up,” simply said Castiel, “I’ll bring him to motel.”

“Don’t bother. I’ll check out and be at the hospital in twenty.” Sam hanged up on Cas and ran his hand through his hair. This is a mess, he thought and collapsed on the bed. He sat there for a while, staring into nothingness. This is such a mess, he repeated again in his head and started packing his duffle.

* * *

 

“Dean?” Castiel unsurely entered the hospital room. “It’s time to go. Your brother is waiting outside.” Castiel glanced at the hunter and was glad to see that he had ditched painfully white hospital gown and was now sporting his usual black t-shirt, a red plaid flannel and a blue cargo jacket.

“Go where?” Dean’s bright green eyes pierced Castiel.

“Home. The bunker I told you about. Lebanon, Kansas. We’re going to get your memory back.” Castiel offered a small smile.

Dean turned away, facing the window. He clasped his hands over his head and sighed. “What if I don’t want my memory back?”

Castiel furrowed his brows. “I’m sorry, what?”

Dean turned around, facing Castiel again. He slowly walked up to him, his eyes almost filled with tears. “What if I don’t want to remember again? Man, from what you’ve told me, it sounds like my life was just a buttload of crap. You told me I’ve been burning in Hell! You told me I hunt frigging monsters for a living! You told me that some angel raised some frigging ghost witches from the dead to erase my memory! Castiel, to me that sounds like a life full of pain. Maybe this is universe giving me a second chance. Giving me a chance to live without that crap. And if you had that chance, wouldn’t you take it, Castiel?”

The angel flinched at the hunter using his full name. He hadn’t called him by his nickname since he lost his memory. And, boy, did it hurt. But not so much as seeing Dean right now, standing so painfully close to him, his eyebrows up, his eyes wet, every muscle in his face tensed up.

Castiel attempted to put a hand on the hunter’s shoulder “Dean… Come with me to the car, there is Sam, he can explain-”

“I don’t even know that man!” yelled Dean, stepping back. “Alright? I don’t know him, I don’t know you, hell, I don’t even know myself!”

“Dean, please come with me.” The angel stepped forward. “I know that you may be confused-”

“Confused?” snapped Dean. “Confused!? Dude, when I woke up I remembered squat about me, all I knew are some general facts. Like, sky is blue, grass is green and monsters do not exist! And I held on to those facts, because it’s kinda hard for me to build a picture of the world that I don’t remember. And then you come and you tell me I hunt monsters and I’ve been in hell and you yanked me out of it, because you are an angel! You could say I’m a little bit confused!” Dean finished his tirade screaming, his face flushed and breathing rapid and heavy.

Castiel’s face tensed up as the angel became more serious. With one swift flick of his hand the door to the room slammed shut. Dean's eyes became a bit wider at this.

“Now listen to me, Dean Winchester. There is a reason that that memory came back to you. It came as a sign that you should keep on fighting! It was the memory of the time when you thought everything was lost, but then salvation came.” Castiel lifted his head and stared right into Dean’s olive eyes. “Now the Dean that I know? That Dean never gives up! That Dean always keeps on fighting! That Dean stopped the Apocalypse!”

The hunter didn’t say anything for a second. “Well…” The older Winchester slowly approached Castiel, standing uncomfortably close to him. “That sounds like weight that I don’t want back on my shoulders. So I am not that Dean.” Dean headed towards the door. He opened it and lingered in the doorway, then looked back at Castiel, just standing there in the middle of the room. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.” The door slammed shut behind him.

* * *

 

“Where’s Dean?” asked Sam in a worried face as he rolled down the window from the driving seat of Impala, as he saw the angel hurrying towards him, his trenchcoat flying behind him in the wind.

“He left.” The angel gripped onto the roof of Impala.

“What?” Sam got out of the car, slamming the door. “Did you just say that he-”

“Left. He told me that he doesn’t want his memory back and a lot of other stuff.”

The younger Winchester glared at the angel. “And you let him go?”

“What was I supposed to do? Knock him out?” The angel spoke in the raised tone.

“That’s frigging fantastic.” Sam exhaled loudly and looked around than smashed his hands on the roof of Impala. “We’re not going to the bunker. There is an empty warehouse in 20 minutes from here, we’re going there and doing the summon. And then we force the son of the bitch to return Dean his memory, whether he wants it or no.”

“I’ll fly to the bunker, fetch the missing ingredients,  meet you there.” Castiel narrowed his eyes and disappeared with a flap of the wings.

Sam sighed (he’s been doing a lot of it lately, but he couldn't help it) and got in the car. The weight on his shoulder became even heavier.

* * *

 

Twenty minutes later Sam rushed into the warehouse, just to find Cas having already assembled everything required for the ritual. An exquisite pentagram was drawn on the floor with candles put around it and a bowl with various herbs set in the front of it.

“You got everything ready?” Sam dumped his duffle on the floor near the door.

The angel nodded. “Pour some blood in there and one of them should appear.” He gestured towards the bowl. Sam marched towards the bowl and held out his hand, with an angel blade in his hand, ready to slice it.

“Sam, wait... Are you sure it’s the right decision?” Castiel glanced down.

Sam turned back to him, facing him with wide open eyes and open mouth. “What’s the right decision?”

“Giving Dean back his memory. I mean, he made it pretty clear to me that he doesn’t want it back,” said Cas, rubbing his temples.

Sam huffed in disbelief. “Well, I’m not sure if you noticed, but he isn’t exactly himself at the moment! He remembers squat, he doesn’t know what he wants.”

“Maybe he doesn’t want to remember me!” shouted the angel.

The hunter didn’t say anything, but shook his head and sliced his hand, letting blood drip in the bowl. As soon as he did that, red smoke appeared in the middle of the pentagram. Castiel bared his angel blade and both of them stepped back, as the smoke disintegrated, leaving them to witness one of the most horrible creatures they had ever seen.

It was terrifying. To very little extent it resembled a human that it used to, but most of its features were completely unhumanlike. Wrinkled white skin on its face framed two black eyes with red pupils, long light grey unkempt hair were showing beneath the hood and dry cracked purplish blue lips were moving back and forth every second. All of its body was covered by a black torn robe with a hood, except its arms from elbow, which were exposed and red sigils on white slithery skin were visible. Sam saw a lot of shit in his life, but that thing certainly took a honorable place on his list of Shittiest Things To Exist. The thing growled at them and started incite something, but was cut short. It was like the words were stuck in its throat.

“It can’t cast a spell. It’s bound by the symbol,” explained Castiel, not taking the eyes of the creature.

The creature hissed something unintelligibly, exposing its sharp black teeth. “It appears angry that we bound it,” hurriedly commented Castiel.

“Oh, you think, Sherlock? Get in there and trace the angel, it might break away!” shouted Sam.

Just as Castiel started approaching the creature, a melodic female voice was heard behind them.

“Won’t be necessary. I’m not hiding.”

Both the hunter and the angel turned around to see the owner of the voice. A woman, clad in a white lacy dress, white fur shawl and white long boots was standing in the corner of the warehouse. She had raven black wavy hair and porcelain skin, with big blue eyes and puckered peach lips.

Castiel tilted his head and gazed at her. “You’re an angel. Izraniel.”

“Guilty as charged.” Izraniel smiled.

As she said that, the Skudakumooch gave out a menacing growl and stepped outside of the pentagram. Sam charged at it with the angel blade, but it dodged his attack and flung him at the wall, effectively knocking him out.

“Sam!” called out Castiel.

“He’ll be fine, don’t worry,” said Izraniel. “Now, darling,” she said, addressing the ghost witch, “get us out of here, would you?”

When Sam woke up 5 minutes later, the warehouse was empty.


	6. Little Black Submarines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confrontation between Castiel and Izraniel.

Castiel woke up to the sound of waves washing over sand. He blinked twice, then looked around at the surrounding. Above him was soft lilac sky, with a hints of saffron yellow and pacific blue in it, decorated with slight fog. The angel sat up. He was lying on cream sand, with slate blue seawater gently coming and going just below reaching his feet. The dying sunshine from setting sun was playing in the water, reflecting in a thousands of small white patches, creating an exquisite mix of blue, purple and pink in the water. The angel also came to a realisation that he couldn’t find his usual trench coat and blazer on his body. He was just wearing his pants and his white shirt. Another addition was a silver bracelet on his right wrist with Etchemin carved into it. Castiel tried to get it off, but failed, as the bracelet wouldn’t come off his hand. The angel stood up and further examined where he was. On both of his sides and behind him there were mountains, but in ten meters from him, there was a bench with someone sitting there. Castiel tried to fly out of there, but he couldn’t. 

“Don’t bother trying. Skudakumooches kindly crafted the wristband that you are wearing right now and it prevents you from using your powers,” said the person on the bench and by her voice, Castiel guessed that it was Izraniel. “Honestly, a shame that Heaven ordered them killed. Such powerful creatures.”

“How do you control them?” asked Castiel, slowly approaching the bench.

Izraniel laughed. “They’re too powerful to be controlled. I made a deal with them in Purgatory. I drag them out of Purgatory if they accomplish my small tasks every now and then.”

“Was erasing Dean’s memories also a small task? And going after crossroads demons?” asked Castiel in a raised tone.

“I didn’t ask them to kill the crossroads demons! See, in their time, deals like these were done with them and now they’re just being jelly. Plus they had to find something to do and I figured that eating demons isn’t so bad of a hobby,” snapped Izraniel.

“What about Dean? You didn’t ask them to do it either?” 

“Castiel…” Izraniel fell silent after saying his name. In that silence, Castiel had a chance to really look at the angel. She had big, but carefully trimmed brows, full cheek with defined cheekbones and small Roman nose. Izraniel’s vessel was beautiful, in summary.

“You have to understand,” she continued, “what I did? I did it for us.”

Castiel furrowed his brows and tilted his head. “I’m not sure I understand. I kind of just met you.”

“Dean… Dean was holding you back,” said Izraniel in a thoughtful tone, ignoring his last remark. “He… Castiel, he would’ve never been enough for you. You deserve more than him.”

“I still have no idea what you’re talking about.” Castiel shook his head and narrowed his lips.

“Castiel.” Izraniel stood up and turned around to face Castiel. “Dean was in love with you.”

And Castiel felt the world collapse. He’s been there for the creation of the human, he’s been there when humans discovered fire, he’s been there when great wars were fought, but he was never involved. He’s always been a spectator. He observed. But he became involved, the day he laid a hand on Dean in Hell. Now at first, there was nothing. But then, as Castiel spent more and more time with Winchesters, he started feeling things. And one of the feelings that he couldn’t quite a finger on was a weird sensation every time Dean walked into the room. There was also an urge to protect him from every threat. As Castiel spent more and more time with humans, he came to realise that that feeling was called love. He never said anything. Why would he? First of all, Dean never showed remotely that he was into guys. Second of all… he knew how Dean’s relationships turned out. How broken they left him when they ended. And their relationship would end sooner or later. Because  _ the universe is against them _ . But Castiel never thought that Dean could also have feelings for him. The thought of him being loved by somebody in a more profound way never occurred to him. He never thought he deserved that. And he made peace with that. And then comes this bitch, he thought.

“No, he wasn’t.” Castiel gripped onto the bench, as he felt just a little bit dizzy.

“He was. And sooner or later he would’ve confessed to you, and it would make  things shaky and it would create an obligation for you to him,” said Izraniel in a caramel voice. “But now Dean is out of the picture. He doesn’t remember you, you don’t owe him anything. You can be true to yourself, again.”

“Wait. So you’re saying that you made him forget me for my sake?” Castiel felt the veins throbbing on his neck.

“Absolutely.” Izraniel narrowed her eyes and tilted her head. “Castiel, you’ll outlive this human. You’re gonna watch him turn to ashes, if you choose to stay by his side. And you will stay by his side, because you’re loyal like that. But it doesn’t have to be like that! Stay with someone more… eternal. Stay with me.” With these words Izraniel stood up and looked up into Castiel’s eyes.

“Izraniel-”

“Shh. Castiel, I’ve followed you for some time now, concealed by ghost witches’ magic. And every day I see you being this majestic graceful fantastic angel, and Dean… he is just not enough for you. But I am enough, Castiel!” Izraniel looked up at him through the lashes.   
  
Castiel felt his blood boiling. He pushed Izraniel away from him. He felt his strength coming back to him. Izraniel saying that Dean wasn’t enough for him somehow jogged his every feeling and Castiel regained his confidence. “How dare you say that Dean is not enough!” he yelled at her,  “He is the bravest human on this Earth, he is the most ablest hunter I’ve known, he is smart and he always gives more that he gets! He is one of the few people who are willing to give and give and give and never ask for anything in return!”

“Castiel, I can be more! Please, Castiel, I’ve loved you for so long! I followed and I hid and I observed, but I’m tired of that! I just want to be with you! And Dean, he would have been an obstacle! He would get in the way!” practically begged Izraniel, keeping steady eye contact. She tried to approach Castiel one more time, but he pushed her down to the sand.

“It ever occured to you that I don’t love you?” yelled Castiel, pointing a finger at her and somehow making it look lethal, “In fact, I just met you and I feel nothing but intense feelings of hatred towards you? Because you put Dean in a coma for 2 weeks! Because you caused him to forget everything! Because, Sam, his brother has been trying to save him to the point where he didn’t sleep for 2 weeks and was barely standing! Because you’ve hurt people I love! And I hate you! And if I had an angel blade with me I would kill you! Hell, if I had any blade I would stick it into you just to watch you bleed!”

Izraniel was half-sitting on the ground and staring wide-eyed at him. “You didn’t mean that.”

“I meant it very much! And to sum it all up-” Castiel felt a lump in his throat, but he swallowed it to continue talking, because he needed to make a statement- “I love Dean!” He exhaled loudly. “I love Dean!” he repeated with more confidence. “And you have screwed up ideas about relationships!”

Izraniel stared at him with blank eyes, as she got up from the sand.  “You love that piece of meat? That hairless ape?”

“Yes.” Castiel stepped away from her. 

“But Castiel, you are so much better than that,” pleaded Izraniel, dusting her white dress.

“I’m really not,” he replied, his voice steel hard.

“Castiel… But I love you…” Izraniel’s eyes filled up with tears. “I did all of this for us… I love you...” 

“I don’t. You’ve got to stop this madness, Izraniel.” Castiel faced her, his posture straight, his shoulders wide and his face stone cold.

Izraniel’s breathing got shallow and rapid. “But-”

“No buts, Izraniel. Give me back my Dean. I won’t be happy with you anyway. My heart belongs to someone else.” Castiel stared down Izraniel, with unblinking eye contact. 

Izraniel’s face became flushed as her eyes darted from one side to another. Her eyebrows raised and lips twisted into one thin line, she swallowed loudly.

“Izraniel, it’s the right thing to do.” As Castiel said that, he heard a snap of fingers and everything went black.

* * *

 

Castiel woke up on cold ground to the sound of Sam calling out his name. 

“Cas! Cas! Wake up dammit!” shouted the younger Winchester, shaking the angel by the shoulders.

Castiel flinched and squinted and slowly opened his eyes, blinking rapidly. He raised himself on his elbows and found out that he was back in the warehouse. He looked down at his body and in relief found that both his suit blazer and his trench coat was back in place.

“What the hell…” he murmured.

“I don’t know! I woke up it was empty and then this chick drops in with you lying near her, leaves you down here, and before I could do anything, she disappears,” on one breath spat out Sam.

“She… she was in love with me, Sam.” Castiel tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. 

Sam blinked twice, raising his forehead. “She… uh, what?”

“She was in love with me. That’s why she took Dean’s memories,” explained Castiel, standing up.

“What’s the correlation-” Sam was cut short by his phone ringing. He took it out from his pocket and glanced at the caller ID. “It’s Dean,” he said in a surprised tone and accepted the call.

“Hey Dean,” said Sam, breathing heavily and put the phone on speaker.

“Where the hell are you, Sammy?” said the older hunter on the other end in a heavy tone. 

“Uh, warehouse, 20 minutes out of town,” replied the younger brother, with a hint of worry in his voice. “Dean, why are-”

“Pick me up at the hospital in ten minutes. Let’s go home.”

* * *

 

“Dean!” Sam quickly got out of the Impala and slammed the door behind him and rushed to Dean, who was standing in front of the entry to the hospital. “Did you- did you remember?” Sam grabbed his brother by shoulders.

Dean nodded, with his eyes just a little bit wet. “Everything.” The brothers hugged tightly, both not saying anything else. They just stood there for at least a minute before letting go. 

“Cas!” Dean noticed the angel approaching them from the car. He ran to the angel. “I’m so sorry.” He hugged the angel tight, feeling the familiar scent of Castiel’s trench coat. “I’m so sorry for the things I said back at the hospital. I’m so sorry, man.”

Castiel didn’t reply anything, but just hugged Dean tighter. “Let’s go home,” murmured the angel, feeling Dean’s warmness in his arms. “Let’s go home.”


	7. Careless Whisper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aftermath. Some characters have something to confess to some other characters. *wink wink*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh, the last chapter! Some fluff to comfort you all.

“Rudy called. Said our Skudakumooches turned up dead in the forest near Dallas. Stab wounds.” Sam strolled into the kitchen. Dean slept through the entire drive, which was probably an aftermath of coma and meddling in his memory, and proceeded to continue on the same notion in the bunker and called it an early night.

“Izraniel must have felt remorse and killed them.” Castiel was sitting at the table in front of untouched cup of tea.

“Must be,” sighed Sam, “Rudy burned the bodies, so our pals ghost witches shouldn’t be a problem anymore.”

“Good. These creatures were too powerful to walk the Earth. Can you imagine they crafted a bracelet that rendered me powerless?” said Castiel.

The younger Winchester raised an eyebrow. “Really? That could be useful, with all these rogue angels around. What happened to it?”

Castiel shook his head. “Izraniel must have took it before she transported me back to the warehouse. It’s lost.”

“So, let me get this straight.” Sam grabbed a beer and sat on the table. “Izraniel was in love with you and she made Dean forget you why?”

Castiel looked away. “I don’t know. Guess it was supposed to make easier for me to ditch you and leave with her.”

Sam raised his forehead and  tightened his lips. “Yeah, that doesn’t make sense.”

“When it ever does? These beings… they don’t always think clearly.” Castiel coughed. “They’re twisted, so I guess that their plans are difficult to catch on.”

“Must be.” Sam tilted his head and looked at Cas. “Man, you’re sure that it was just that?”

“Yes, Sam, I’m sure!” in a raised tone said Cas. “Sorry,” he added in his normal voice immediately afterwards, “I didn’t mean to shout.”

“It’s fine.” Sam waved it off. They sat in silence for a couple of minutes.

“Hey Sam… Had Dean ever experience any sort of attraction… to uh, men?” suddenly spoke up Cas, trying not to be too obvious.

Sam choked on his beer. “Uh, why you ask, Cas?”

“Just a random thought.” Cas tried to act natural and realized he was bad at it.

Suddenly Sam’s eyes lit up as he opened his mouth in realization. “Oh my god,” he said in a hushed tone rapidly, “Do you have a crush on my brother?”

Castiel felt his face flush. He wasn’t aware that angels’ faces were able of flushing, but apparently that was the case. “Er- no, I mean, not that I mind obviously, er, uh…” he stuttered, stepping back. He proceeded to trip on the floor, barely dodging the top counter that was aimed to stab his head with its corner. The angel gripped on the table, but slipped nevertheless and ended up on the floor. Sam was watching the whole with raised eyebrows and a badly hidden smile. “That hurt,” muttered angel, getting up, when he noticed light going a bit dimmer from Sam towering above him.

“Do you, Cas?” asked Sam, helping the angel to get up.

Castiel glanced sideways, inhaled and blurted out on one breath, “Yes, I do.”

Sam looked up and giggled, his eyes flickering with excitement. “I knew it! I frigging knew it!”

Castiel narrowed his eyes. “Was it this obvious?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “You’ve been giving each other longing stares since like forever! About time, Cas, about frigging time!”

“I wasn’t… giving Dean longing stares…” muttered Cas defensively.

Sam raised an eyebrow with a half-smile. “Whatever you say. Anyway, the jerk has been crushing on you since forever, so you have my go ahead.” The hunter giggled once again. “About time.” He gulped down the rest of the beer in one go, threw the bottle in the trash can with perfect aim and headed out of the kitchen, giving Cas a pat on the back. “I have a thing to do tomorrow, so I’ll be out of the bunker tomorrow the whole day.”

Castiel followed the leaving Sam with his gaze. “What thing, Sam?” he shouted after him.

“Haven’t yet decided!” yelled back hunter and happily moose’d into his room.

* * *

 

As promised, Sam got himself out of the bunker since early morning next day and left a note on the counter that he got a ‘call from an old college buddy and basically, don’t wait up for me, I’ll be back late in the evening’. Castiel thoughtfully looked at the note, huffed and wanted to head out of the kitchen, when he saw Dean in the robe standing in the doorway.

“Hello Dean. How you feeling?” asked Castiel, trying to sound as neutral as possible.

“Well for a guy who’s been Dori up to 20 hours ago, I’d say I’m doing fantastic.” Dean lumbered into the kitchen and started going through the counters. “Damn, where is coffee in this freaking house-” he muttered, but was cut short by Castiel placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Cas?” Dean shot him a confused glance.

“I, uh, kinda… Coffee! Sam moved it, it is now there.” Castiel promptly removed the arm and pointed towards bottom right shelf.

Dean furrowed his brows and gave Cas a weird half-smile. “Thanks.” Dean grabbed the pack of coffee and started to make a cup of coffee.

“Uh, Dean…” Castiel swallowed a lump in his throat and approached the hunter. “I wanted to talk.”

“Sure, shoot.” Dean set a steaming cup of coffee  in front of him. “You want some?” he gestured at the coffee maker. Cas didn’t say anything, just shook his head.

“You know, I saw humans discover coffee. They used to eat it… as beans,” said Castiel with narrowed eyes and a half smile, sitting next to Dean.

“Fascinating.” Dean took a gulp of his coffee.

“Yeah, I saw a lot of things.” Castiel nodded, as to emphasize his point. “I saw humans discover fire. One of them got burnt, and then they realised that it hurts. I saw Ottoman empire form and I saw it fall. I never once got involved, all I did was watch and report.”

Dean nodded with a slight smile. “Yeah,  I know, that’s kinda all you guys did until we showed up.”

“Yeah… until you showed up.” Nobody said anything for the next two minutes, just Dean in silence drinking coffee and Cas staring into nothing.

“You know…” started Dean, “When that bitch Bourne’d my identity, I saw you saving me through Hell.”

“I know. You told me.” Castiel tilted his head and looked at the hunter.

“Cas, you think it was a sign? I mean the memory that came back to me was from the moment I first met you.” The hunter unsurely looked into the angel’s eyes.

Castiel felt his heart skip a bit. “A sign for what, Dean?” The angel tried to ignore the internal screaming in his head.

“A sign for us, Cas.” The hunter, almost as if by accident, touched Castiel’s hand.

“Are you saying-”

“I am.” Dean took Castiel’s hand into his own, not even trying to hide it. “Cas, I- When my memories came back to me, I mean I was generally very happy, because the world made sense once again, but also  because I- because I remembered you. And Cas, I never want to forget you ever again.” Dean’s eyes became just a little bit wet.

“And I never want to just watch again.” Castiel stared into Dean’s olive deep eyes and felt his watering up again.

“Cas, do you, uh,  how do I say this-”

“You don’t.” With these words the angel pulled the hunter closer, scared at first that he will be pushed away, but then he felt Dean’s strong warm arms  wrap around him and accepted it as his go ahead. He slowly moved his face towards Dean’s, staring just for a second more into those gorgeous eyes and then closing his eyes and just falling in it, and feeling their lips collide together. Dean’s lips tasted like coffee with a hint of whiskey, but to Cas it felt so good. He pulled Dean tighter, afraid that if he let go, Dean would be lost to him, so he just held on to his human as tight as his possibly could. Castiel ran his hand through Dean’s silky soft hair and smelled the familiar scent of Dean’s shower gel on his neck.

“Woah… That was fantastic,” whispered Dean, after Cas finally let go. Dean’s eyes were wet and breathing rapid and shallow.

“Should we do it again?”

“Totally.” This time Dean pulled Cas into a kiss, and the angel felt himself melt in Dean’s strong arms and he thought that that was his most favourite moment of his entire life. And if the universe is against them? Well… fuck the universe.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uhh, this is it I guess! I hope you liked the fic, please stay tuned for more fics. I got an exciting project coming up in a couple of days so there will be that. Thanks to anyone who's been reading the fic and thank you to everyone who left kudos and commented. The comments I received are just ahhhh. Thank you.

**Author's Note:**

> Please like and comment! No comments of harsh critique or hate comments, please.


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